The noble council chamber exuded an air of distinction and elegance reminiscent of British splendor from the 19th century. The walls were adorned with dark mahogany panels, polished to an impeccable shine, showcasing the richness of the wood and imparting a sense of warmth to the room. It was evident that the king had put forth his utmost effort to display his British heritage.
The floor, covered with a luxurious deep crimson carpet, featured intricate patterns of golden leaves and was bordered with a golden fringe that emphasized power and authority. Walking on it, the muffled sound of footsteps seemed like part of a majestic choreography.
Soft light filtered through tall windows adorned with dark red velvet curtains, themselves enhanced with golden tassels. Crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling cast sparkling flashes of light, adding a touch of opulence to the room.
In the center of the chamber, an imposing solid oak conference table extended majestically. Upon it rested important documents, scrolls of parchment, and a pheasant feather quill.
"You would do well to remember that I am the king, Ethan the First of his name. You cannot impose any directives upon me," proclaimed Ethan.
At the far end of the table, Ethan's ebony throne stood with an imposing presence. Carved with intricate details and upholstered in royal blue velvet, the throne appeared as a symbol of the authority and power wielded by the king. A golden crown, studded with precious gems, rested carefully on a velvet cushion beside it, a constant reminder of his new royal lineage.
Ethan surveyed his surroundings, attempting to intimidate his guests, a diverse group of nobles who were present to influence his decision. Fortunately for him, the authority granted by the system could only be wielded by him, leaving the rest somewhat dejected, fearing they might lose another season's favor.
"So it is, glorious king. It's a pity that these ingrates forget so quickly all you've done for the kingdom," one noble ventured.
"Silence, you have no voice in this council, noble Malakar," Ethan retorted.
A count immediately drew attention. For all those present, this councilor was a headache as he made every effort to make the king as unmanageable as possible for them.
Malakar was a person with extravagant clothing and exaggerated jewelry, rushing to lick Ethan's boots. His rat-like appearance made it clear that his only virtue was being the loyal lapdog or perhaps a venomous snake, depending on who you asked.
From the table where they all sat, heated discussions arose until eventually, a hot-blooded young nobleman stood up.
"You cannot impose royal favoritism again; it's been three seasons in a row. By now, your forces and cities should have enough resources. Instead, we need a boost in the kingdom's harvests. It would serve the realm much better if we could take some time to rest before the next war," he argued.
Another noble called the council's attention back to the most urgent issue, that of the mandate's application. Ethan, on his part, wanted to enact the mandate known as Royal Favoritism, which granted nearly a 50 percent improvement to the production of a designated small territory. In contrast, the other nobles favored the Production of Agriculture improvement, which increased all harvests by 10 percent throughout the entire territory de jure.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
"And how are we supposed to train His Majesty's elite knights? Our erudite king, Ethan, has a plan in motion to create the best and most elite cavalry. Or are you saying you can fight on equal terms against the orcish skull-smashers or the warg riders of the nomadic tribes?" another noble asked.
The mention of elite groups from nearby realms was more than enough to silence the dissidents. Indeed, these troops were especially powerful and posed a great risk to human forces.
"And when will these famous knights be ready? So far, it's only been my troops that have had to hold the borders. If I don't receive your help or the necessary crops to sustain my people, what's the point of this alliance?" Marquis Reynold questioned.
"Marquis Reynold," murmured Ethan. Although he loved throwing his weight around, he knew very well that he couldn't steamroll over everyone here. This particular marquis had the largest number of troops among them. The marquis himself was a natural fighter and had earned a great reputation through his own efforts, which had propelled him to his position.
Furthermore, Ethan wouldn't replace him even if he could. Just like his title of king, the marquis's title had been granted by the system, and it provided significant bonuses for both the territory and the individuals.
(These savages think that just because they can swing a sword, they can tell me what's best for my kingdom.) Ethan thought every time he had a formal meeting with the other nobles of the realm.
"The knights will be ready for the front when the time comes, Marquis Reynold. In the meantime, you will have a legion of armored soldiers to assist you. They will march with you from the capital in a month," a authoritative voice interrupted the current atmosphere. Everyone present turned to see the newcomer who dared to interrupt their meeting. However, upon seeing her, half of those present felt intimidated.
"I understand, Queen Vivien. I accept your arrangement," Marquis Reynold replied. Although Marquis Reynold was not one to be intimidated, he had obtained the help he needed and decided not to further obstruct the meeting. Furthermore, the presence of this woman meant that her father, the Duke of Avignon and Prime Minister, had taken a step forward, so future matters could be discussed directly with his office.
Many of the smaller fish were annoyed but smart enough to swallow their pride. The Avignon family was a true noble house in every sense of the word. Despite only two short years since their integration into the land, this family knew how to capitalize on every aspect gained from the land and rise to a position of power. If it weren't for the fact that titles and their powers couldn't be transferred easily at the moment, there would be talk of the King of Avignon.
Soon, Vivien masterfully addressed the remaining matters one by one. During this time, Ethan had nothing but to grind his teeth in place. Although he disliked the House of Avignon, it was the only reason he could keep the kingdom running smoothly without opposition.
With state matters concluded, the nobles departed, leaving the two alone in the chamber.
"How long will you continue with this attitude?" Vivien asked.
"I am the king, and it is my privilege to use decrees. The kingdom must move in the direction I dictate," Ethan retorted.
Vivien merely sighed at Ethan's words and began to leave. However, he reacted violently, gripping her wrist.
"You can't leave without my permission or..."
Vivien couldn't be intimidated by Ethan. Coming from the prestigious Avignon family, she had strong backing, and unlike Ethan, who also received an elite education, she took it seriously and learned a lot about administration and diplomatic relations on Earth, topics she could now apply effectively in Glamoria as queen.
However, Ethan's threat was left unfinished as he faced her hostile gaze. "Or what?"